How dare you?
by Martkos
Summary: Methos breaks the rules to save Duncan. Sadly I own neither Methos nor Duncan - not even Joe! It's a pity.
1. Chapter 1

Duncan had never to this day fully understood just how different Methos really was. He had always thought that the oldest immortal was just playing the tough guy without a conscience because attempting to lead something like a normal life and to behave like anyone else would be too painful as it was surely doomed to fail. Who could be "normal" after a life of 5000+ years filled with love, loss and pain? Even after he had been told about the horsemen MacLeod had still harbored the idea that his "friend" had just been a misguided youth and that he had only killed because some of his earlier traumatic experiences. Not because he was inherently evil. No, he just had not known better, he tried to convince himself. He knew that Methos had experienced some really ugly shit when he was still young. But now, he was not so sure about Methos not being evil anymore.

Today he had come to realize that even if there had been a soft and empathetic version of Methos once, it sure as hell was gone now. Completely gone.

He had seen him kill the woman, wait, not woman, he had to correct himself, almost a mere child, without any second thoughts. Duncan felt a pang of guilt because he was grateful although he knew that what Methos had done was all kinds of wrong.

But if his friend had not broken the rules, Duncan would be dead now.

He remembered the cold swiftness with which Methos had stepped in after he had slipped...it still baffled him. There had been an oily spot on the floor where the woman and he had fought. Obviously someone had told her lies about him and led her to believe that he was a rapist and had to be stopped. There had been such a fury in her eyes. Nevertheless he had tried to reason with her, had desperately tried to explain that she was making a mistake. He had not wanted to take the life of an innocent child. If she had only listened,...

And then, while he had still been trying to stop her from attacking him, he had taken a defensive step backwards to evade her sword, and he had slipped. She had of course taken advantage and would surely have decapitated him, if it had not been for Methos.

He still saw Joe's stunned gaze before him as the old watcher had witnessed the unthinkable. Methos had broken the rules. And his eyes...Duncan felt a shudder run through him. Methos' eyes had had a cold yellowish hue to them as he had lifted his sword. He had not paused. Hell, he had not even blinked as he had brought the sword down and ended her life. Everything had happened within seconds and Duncan still wondered how the old immortal had been able to bridge the space between them so quickly.

But this had not been all. He had pulled another trick, the old bastard.

The quickening had started to rise but Methos had voluntarily controlled it, preventing the energy from running wild, so that Joe and Duncan had had the time to escape the onslaught of lightening and thunder. If he thought about it, this had been the creepiest moment of the whole encounter. Methos had in this moment really seemed to control the life force seeping out of the woman's dead body. Duncan felt sick because that meant that Methos' nickname "Death" had not been chosen without a reason. Besides this shocking revelation he was still angry with the oldest immortal. It had been his fight and the rules clearly forbade any intervention.

All this had happened three days ago and he had still not found the courage to talk to Methos again. Neither had he talked to Joe, although his friend had called him several times. He sighed. Perhaps he should go and see Joe.


	2. Chapter 2

Methos knew that MacLeod was still angry with him. Angry, yes! Could you believe it? When all he had done was save his Scottish ass. How dared that little sucker!

But he realized that he wasn't angry so much because he had expected Duncan to be all over him with thanks. Well, not in the first place. He was livid because the Highlander had almost gotten himself killed out of a twisted sense of honor. Some kind of scout's honor, he scoffed.

He remembered the moment when the girl had raised her sword to kill MacLeod and his own mind had just gone blank. Despite what Mac might think, he had not deliberately chosen to step in. All he had thought at that moment was that he could not bear to live in a world without his friend. That Mac above all others did not deserve to die.

What was that girl to him? She was a mere stranger and had had it coming, yes, she had practically asked for a good beheading. He had been afraid of losing the Highlander and he did not like fear. Fear was something to be instilled in others. He knew that he had become attached to Joe and Duncan and that kind of sentiment was always dangerous, but he could not get rid of it. He had tried.

Anger rose in him again. Duncan, this poor excuse for an immortal friend had no right at all to be mad at him because of some fucked up rules shit. Rules he had helped to invent for fuck's sake. If you asked him, there was only one rule: survive! Nevertheless this little bastard of a moralizer was piqued. He was going to show him how piqued he could be, yes.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry, it took me so long to update. I wanted to edit this part of the story but I can't seem to find the time. So, I'm not completely happy with how it turned out...and because I'm evil, this part ends with a cliffhanger. ;)

Thanks for your comments as well as the astonishingly positive and helpful feedback.

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Joe tensed as Mac stopped in mid-sentence, put down his glas and looked up wide-eyed. Joe turned to the door because this behavior could only mean that another immortal was coming in.

And who could that possibly be, he asked himself wryly.

They both watched the dark tall figure enter the bar. Of course it was Methos, but, oh god...

Joe sucked in his breath. This didn't look too good. One could get the impression that the man who had just entered the bar only bore a slight resemblance to Adam Pierson, but could in no possible way be the soft, young and often clumsy scholar.

The eyes they were looking into were those of a killer, two green seas with centers of feral darkness and Methos himself had the feel, not of a man, but of a force of nature to him.

To make things worse, he seemed to be pissed.

Dawson could not help but feel reminded of what he had learned in his biology lessons when he was a kid. Some insects used mimicry to fool their prey. Taking on the guise of a harmless animal or an inanimate object, or in Methos' case, the appearance of a young fledgling watcher, just to lash out at the unsuspecting victim.

Now he could imagine how people in former times had seen Methos when he still had been one of the horsemen and mothers had warned their children of a pale rider called death, meaning no one else but the man now standing in front of them. He felt his muscles tense but tried to act normal.

"Adam," Joe cried out, his voice just a little hoarse, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had ensued after Methos' entrance. "Sit down, will you? I'll go and get you some beer." He had to try and ease the built up tension or someone would surely be hurt tonight. Joe quickly busied himself to fetch the promised beer, when Methos' voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"That won't be necessary, Joe." Dawson felt the slight tremor in his limbs more than he saw it. This could not be happening. Not here. Not in his bar...Joe's bar had always been the closest thing to hallowed ground you could find and Duncan and Methos had been its guradians. This was his "neutral zone", goddammit. This had to stop.

"What? You do not want beer? What's next? You saying that you stopped breathing voluntarily?" Did his voice sound a little bit squeaky?

Methos' lips didn't even so much as twitch because of the lame joke. "It won't take long, Joe," he said, his eyes fixed on the Highlander. All this time he had been staring at Duncan who had soon started to fidget with his coaster, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"So, Highlander," he began deceptively calm, "I believe you've got something to say. Go ahead. Speak your mind." No blinking. No shifting his weight. He just stood there like solidified darkness waiting for an answer. MacLeod seemed to be petrified for about ten seconds before his rage got the better of him.

"Of course I've got something to say and you know exactly what it is! You had no right to interfere, you know that!" he ground out, "It's against the rules and they exist for a reason!"

Methos' cold and cynical laughter shocked both of them.

"The rules? Are you serious?" His eyes seemed to be sparkling with fury and amusement at the same time.

"Fuck the rules. I made them," he hissed and with this he drew his sword.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for your reviews!

There will be a follow-up that deals with the mysterious quickening-control-thingy, I promise.

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"If it wasn't for me, MacLeod, you'd be dead right now. And if you regret that she did not take your head, when you slipped in that warehouse, there is surely something we can do, to set it right." Methos lunged forward without another word, attacking Mac, who had instinctively grabbed his sword and parried Methos' first blow with some difficulty.

Joe still stood there, thunderstruck. It seemed to take an eternity before he came back to his senses, turned around and started to frantically search for the gun he kept under the bar.

He had to stop this lunacy! Who had ever thought that he was to shoot the two idiots one day. And for heaven's sake, they deserved it! Was he the only one who was not batshit crazy around here? He had barely ended this thought when the sight of the fight caught his eye again. He forgot to breathe, let alone to aim his gun at the two opponents.

This really was insane on so many levels.

Methos was insane. His fighting skill was insane. Joe could not find another word to describe what was going on in front of his eyes.

He had never seen anybody wield a sword like this.

Methos really fought like an immortal. His age and power obviously allowed him to take cuts and stabs which would incapacitate others for hours at least. He on the other hand did not even wince as Mac's katana sliced trough his upper arm and parted the muscle strands. The cut healed immediately and seemed to have no visible effect on the older immortal. And this was Methos' weapon of choice. He used this unbelievable healing ability as a tactic to surprise his opponent. And it clearly worked on Mac. Joe was staring open-mouthed.

At first Joe had thought that Methos got cut and slashed because he made mistakes, after all he had claimed not to have participated in the game for centuries, but then Joe realized that the old bastard was just playing with Mac. He let the younger immortal believe to have gained an advantage, just to turn on him and destroy this illusion.

This seemed to dawn on MacLeod as well because for the first time since he had started watching the Scot, Joe actually saw him look distressed, and yes, even frightened.

Just as Joe had decided to put an end to this cruel cat-and-mouse game, Methos stopped playing around and attacked in earnest. The blows raining down on Mac were almost to quick to discern and the big broadsword Methos used made impressive clanking noises when it clashed with Mac's slender and more elegant katana. Then there suddenly was a nasty sucking wet noise as Methos tore open Mac's gut with one vicious stroke. Mac cried out and within seconds he was on his knees, breathing heavily. He had grown awfully pale and although his head was hanging, Joe could clearly see that his face was twisted in pain.

Methos' bastard gently touched Mac's neck as the older one was staring down at him with eyes that seemed to blaze with that strange green-yellow colour again. Joe blinked and hardly dared to breathe. His heart was stuttering. Really, Jesus! He was getting too old for this. What was next? Methos would not..., he could not. Mac was his friend! He surely would not take his head, would he?

When Methos started to speak, his voice had become deceptively calm again.

Nevertheless his next words made Joe's hair stand on end.

"Don't ever do that again, Highlander." Duncan's head snapped up in surprise but he quickly stopped this movement as he cut himself on the blade of Methos' sword.

"When you are challenged, I expect you to fight your opponent with everything you've got. In future you will not hold back because of some stupid sense of chivalry because it will get you killed." He had spat out the last words with so much fury that Duncan had visibly flinched. His friend's words seemed to cut deeper than the sword at his neck. But Methos was not done yet. All the rage he had kept under control until now was finally breaking through.

"And if you get yourself killed, I swear to whatever gods you care to believe in, I swear that if you die on me because of your fucked up sense of honor or some similar asinine idea of heroism, I'm going to dig your sorry dead ass up, find a way to bring you back to life and kill you all over again. Just for the fun of it."

MacLeod and Joe were both staring at the oldest immortal in utter astonishment. Neither of them had expected this. Hell, Methos was not usually known for his emotional outbursts. He really seemed to be bothered by the fact that Mac had almost died in this last fight. He really seemed to care.

But before on of them could react in any way, Methos had drawn back his sword and left without another word.

After he had left the bar, Duncan, who was still kneeling on the floor, looked up at Joe. "Why are you grinning, watcher? This funny or what?" He still had not healed completely.

Joe chuckled, "For starters, seeing you being chewed out by Death personified was damned scary and now I'm just relieved that you still got your head on your shoulders. And then,...well, if I were you, Highlander, I'd try really hard not to die before he does. I believe every single word he just said, you know."

Duncan's eyes grew wide, as he seemed to imagine being dug up and killed anew by a furious Methos, but then he started to smile weakly.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. He never tries anything, he just does it, doesn't he?

And we wouldn't wanna tempt him."


End file.
